7f 







Class I 3 3 ,5^ 
Book 65^^ 



CopyrigM]^^. 



CiJBTRIGHT DEPOSm 



HORIZON SONGS 



BY 



GRACE DUFFIELD GOODWIN 



*' South as the heart cries; North as the blood sings; 
West as the dead go; East as the light comes." 




BOSTON 

SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 

1912 






COPYBIGHT, 1912 

SheemaNj French 6* CoMPAirr 



CCi,A330776 



TO 

AN IMPERISHABLE MEMORY 



Thanks are due the following maga- 
zines and religious papers for permis- 
sion to reprint : The Century, Scribner^s, 
Harper^ s Bazaar, Lippincotfs, The Sinart 
Set, Congregationalist, Independent, Sun- 
day School Times, etc., etc. 



CONTENTS 

NATURE 

PAGE 

THOU REMEMBEREST 3 

"THE EVENING AND THE MORNING" . . 5 

DAWN 6 

FOR THE SEA 7 

>WHENCE COMETH MY HELP 8 

SURPASSED . 10 

THE HARBOR-MOTHER ........ 11 

EARTH-LOVE 12 

A SONNET OF OBLIVION 13 

ORCHARD AND HILL 14 

THE SONG-BIRD 15 

REMEMBERED MUSIC 16 

THE WILD BIRD 17 

DAWN 18 

AN EARLY SONG 19 

SEA-GULLS 20 

"LIKE A QUIET NUN" 21 

ANTICIPATION 23 

THE SOUND OF STREAMS 24> 

AFTER THE SHOWER 25 

KIN 26 

WITH THE STREAM 27 

THE TRIUMPH 28 

WINTER DAFFODILS 29 

FROM THE WOODS 30 

PILGRIM BROOK 31 

THE AUTUMN STORM 32 

THE SPIRIT OF RAIN 33 

THE GATES OF PAN 35 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THE POET'S MONTH 36 

"I KNOW A LANE" 38 

CHILDHOOD 

AT BETHLEHEM 41 

THE GOLDEN KINGS 42f 

THE SHEPHERDS' WAKING 44 

EMMANUEL— GOD WITH US 45 

IN THE GARDEN .46 

A CHILD IN THE GARDEN 48 

MOTHER- ANGELS 49 

A CHILD'S HYMN 50 

THE LITTLE WHITE LAMB 51 

DREAM-DEPTHS .... 52 

THE BRAVE HEART 53 

BLESSING 54 

HER ANGEL 55 

MEMORY 56 

MOTHERS 57 

LOVE 

LOVE SPEAKS 61 

A SONNET OF LOVERS . . . . . . . .62 

SNOW SUMMITS 63 

FOR HELEN 64 

A SONG FOR HELEN 65 

MY LADY'S SONG 66 

CAPTIVE CONTENT . 67 

LOVE .68 

MESSENGERS . 69 

THE SINGER 70 

MID-SEA 71 

THE UNDESIRED 72 

BONDS 73 

WHEN LOVE WAS YOUNG 74 

AUCASSIN ET NICOLETE 75 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

IN SILENCE 77 

FOR NELL . 78 

ON Y VOIT L'AMOUB 79 

THE BEE 80 

ONE DAY 81 

AFTER ^ .... 83 

BEYOND RECALL 83 

WITH WINGS 85 

SEA SOUL 86 

THE FOOL'S SONG 87 

HELOISE TO ABELARD 88 

HELOISE TO GOD 89 

THE LIE 90 

-WOMAN'S LOVE 91 

THAT WHICH ABIDES 92 

LIFE 

CLOISTERED 95 

UPHELD QQ 

SINCE EDEN .97 

UPWARD 98 

OUTCAST 99 

SERVICE 100 

CHOICE 103 

YOKEFELLOWS 103 

THE UNREALIZED . . . 104 

MAKING THE BEST OF IT 105 

GRATITUDE 106 

MASTERY 107 

THE THANKFUL HEART .108 

PRAYER 109 

RECREANT . 110 

CROWNS Ill 

THE HOUSE OF GOD 113 

^CREED 113 

FROM THE SHRINE 114 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

THALATTA 115 

SYMPATHY 116 

PROGRESS IIT 

NIGHT AND NOON 118 

CONVALESCENT 119 

FREEDOM 120 

FUTILITY 191 

CAGES 122 

CATHEDRALS 123 

THE REMEMBERED LAND 124 

DEATH 

GREATER GRIEF 127 

LAZARUS 128 

JUDGMENT 129 

GUARDIANS 130 

CONFIDENCE 131 

LOSS 132 

TO MY FATHER 133 

TO MY FATHER 134 

BETWEEN THE HARBOR AND THE HILL . 135 

-ASHES 137 

TO MY FATHER 138 

HER HANDS 140 

PAX V0BI8CUM 141 

TO MY FATHER 143 

MOTHER-HUNGER 144 

A SONG FOR REMEMBRANCE . . . . . 146 

THE LEGEND OF ISHTAR .147 

THE MINORITY 149 

THE LAST STAND 150 

NORTHLAND . . .151 

THIS HOUR 152 

ULTIMATUM 153 



NATURE 



THOU REMEMBEREST 

"Thou rememberest that we are dust." 
"He remembered that they were wind." 

God of the Universe, what dost Thou ask 

Of a handful of dust.? 
Is there no gauging of strength to the task 

When the master is just.^^ 
'Neath the terrible wheels we have cried, we 

have striven 
When o'er the King's highway His chariots are 

driven. 
Who, hearing, shall pity.^^ Who, seeing, shall 

care ? 
We are dust on the air. 

God of the Worlds, dost Thou heed from afar 

When the wind on the sea 
Forgot of the wave, and unheard of the star 

Cries, wailing, to Thee.^^ 
The black of the midnight enfoldeth alone 
The voice of our grieving, the plaint of our 

moan; 
What fiat of destiny framed us to be 
Winds lost on the sea? 



[3] 



Great Worker, Great Dreamer, love smote 

Thee to lean 
Down the spaces of splendor that lightened be- 
tween ; 
To touch this dull earth till each clod was 

athrill 
And write in its dust the plain word of Thj 

will; 
To breathe in the winds on the dark of the sea 
The breath of Thy spirit — a challenge from 

Thee. 
O great the remembrance, and mighty the 

trust ! 
Thou knowest, O God, we are wind, we are 

dust ! 



[4] 



"THE EVENING AND THE MORNING" 

Dusk — and a star! 

The great gloom gathers slowly on the trees. 
Thrusts out remorseless from the crevices 
The lingering light that flies into the West 
To die on drowning sunset's submerged breast ; 
The world is cast adrift upon the wide 
Swift current of the dark's engulfing tide, 
No haven and no anchorage, until far, 
Lightens — a star! 

Dawn — and a bird ! 

The vague, prophetic splendor of the day 
Spreads its dim garment on the untrod way; 
The earth lies on the dreaming edge of sleep. 
And over all expectant tremors creep. 
Touched with a sweetness that grows poignant 

pain, 
Then shivers back to ecstasy again; 
And through the tensity of dawn deferred. 
Wakens — a bird! 



[5] 



DAWN 

When the dawn-star whitens 

In the flushing east, 
When the young birds' clamor 

Suddenly has ceased, 
When the breeze is breathless 

On the upland way, — 
In that one tense moment. 

Silence — Tremor — Day. 

Life's pale stars are slipping 

From the hand of night; 
Heavenly hills in shadow 

Catch the growing light; 
Love and Faith that, faltering. 

Through the gloom have trod, 
Know in Death's dawn-moment 

Silence — ^Rapture — God ! 



[6] 



FOR THE SEA 

How am I pent, that hunger for the sea, 
In close, green prison of a narrow vale. 

Where sobbing breath is choked and seems to 
fail, 
With panting for the wind to set it free! 

The smooth skies bend above the smoother 
green ; 
Trees crowd upon me; flowers flaunt and 
flare; 
The heavy, heated, perfume-laden air 

From dawn to dusk lies motionless, serene. 

Star-friended through mysterious ways of 
night, 

My soul into thy solitude would flee. 
And gladly, orphaned of the world, lay claim, 

Strong Mother of the hearts of men, to thee. 



[7] 



WHENCE COMETH MY HELP 

Strong hills, unreproachful, unchanging, 

For souls that would worship as I — 
Who am restless, inconstant, and weary. 
But true to the hills and the sky, — 
Bend near me, 
And hear me. 
Though answerless still to my cry. 

As a pagan can pray, self-deceiving, 

To gods that are dumb, 
So my soul can adore thee, calm hill-tops. 

When to thee I come. 
And thy curves lining soft against heaven 
Are answer that strength will be given. 
Flowing free 
Into me. 

There's a world of my fellows behind me, 

And fretting, and pain; 
Deep incomprehension, as wide as 

The measureless main. 
Is our portion together, for them and for me. 
Yet I love them. But now — I am free, 
I am free. 
Thy vassal, thy pupil to be. 



[8] 



Then take me, 
Ye hill-tops, and make me 
Breathe deep of your uppermost air; 
Let the gracious gold tints of the morning 

Be psalm and be prayer; 
For the soul gaining strength from your uplift 

Braves noontime and care. 

But tell me, ye merciful hill-tops. 

To whom do ye pray? 
Who gives you your might and your meekness. 

The calm of your day. 
That ye have free for sparing 
To all who come caring 

To bow and obey? 

The God of the hills in His heart bears 

The strength of the world. 
From the might of the mountains to slenderest 

Force there impearled 
In the dewdrop. The gold of the morn is His 

smile. 
Slow we learn. God is waiting the while 
Till our hearts shall reach high as the hills, 

And we see 
That all strength and all calm and all beauty 
Is He. 



[9] 



SURPASSED 

The urgent gull strives down the sweeping 
wind; 
The lark, aspiring, sings in viewless sky; 
Yet I, who have so hoped and dreamed and 
loved — 
How less than these am I! 

O radiant gull, thy calm of tireless flight, 

Unresting peace, be mine ; 
And thou. Familiar of the skies, teach me 

An ecstasy like thine! 



[10] 



THE HARBOR-MOTHER 

The little boats from the ocean glide, 
Hurrying home with the eventide 

For shelter and rest 

To the peaceful breast 
Of the harbor-mother, whose arms stretch 
wide. 

As she quiets each quivering, weary wing, 
This is the song that I hear her sing, 

While the stars hang low. 

And the night-winds blow. 
And strong and silent the slow tides swing; 

"Rest, little boats, through the deepening 

night — 
Rest till the smile of the sun is bright; 

Then away and away 

Through the long, fair day; 
Nothing shall hinder your eager flight. 

"Sleep now, and rest; 
For that is best. 
And calm and safe is the harbor-breast." 



[11] 



EARTH-LOVE 

I THINK that I shall hear, when I am dead, 
If even a sparrow twitters overhead; 
When June has come, and the wild roses blow, 
I shall not stir, majhap, but I shall know. 

i 

No sudden shower may touch my lowly place 
Without a tear, responsive, on my face; 
Each wind that wakes the fragrance of the fir. 
Shall whisper, passing, "Hush, I call to her." 

And if a star gleam down through purple 

night. 
Straight on the snow that lies upon me light. 
Perhaps as I shall draw one joyous breath, 
The old-time rapture may imperil death. 



[12] 



A SONNET OF OBLIVION 

The earth hath holy places, unadorned 
With sculpture or commemorative brass; 
Across whose ways unheeding footsteps pass, 

Whose memories by forgetfulness are scorned. 

Well were it if some solemn voice had warned, 
"Tread softly; in this dewy, velvet grass 
The daisy grew that Chaucer plucked. Alas, 

Such blossoms spring no more, and few have 
mourned." 

Nature's true heart alone doth now enfold 
The tree where Herrick carved his Julia's 

name ; 
Keats' "little hill" — forgotten long ago. 
Yet would that we could bind in grateful gold 
The bank of thyme that shares in Shake- 
speare's fame. 
The path Vittoria trod with Angelo. 



[13] 



ORCHARD AND HILL 

No push of buds, no breath of bloom, 

No dream of new leaves soon to be; 
No dear communion, bough to bough, 

In orchard sympathy. 

O sad Pine Tree, 

Not these for thee. 
But all them, at will, for me. 

A solitude of friendless green ; 

Winds that have swept a bitter sea ; 
Wide wastes of midnight sky between 

The distant, heedless stars and thee. 
Night, silence, wind and stars and sea! 
O blest Pine Tree, 
Close, close by thee, 
I pray thee make a place for me ! 



[14] 



THE SONG-BIRD 

A BAREEN stretch of sunless land, 

No tree, no flower; 
Bleak, sullen desolation spanned 

By skies that lower. 

And far above, from earth remote, 

Where clouds belong, 
A tiny bird with happy note 

Burst into song. 

Hearken, sad soul! There is for thee 

A lesson hidden ; 
Though all thy life a desert be. 

And bloom forbidden. 

Remember, though thy fate be sad, 

No joyance bringing. 
The darkest day will seem more glad 

If birds be singing. 



[15] 



REMEMBERED MUSIC 

IN MEMOEY OF A POET. 

One song is hushed in the wood, 

One strong little throat is stilled, 
And the branches are quiet which once 
To the melody thrilled, — 

While the small cold nest 
That the warm wings pressed 
Hangs — at rest. 

The forest choir sings on 

Its glad, triumphant strain, 
But yet for the silent voice. 
One tree feels a nameless pain. 
And the sorrowing stream 
Shows the wing's ruddy gleam 
In its dream. 

The poet whose words rang so bravely 

Through darkness and pain, 
Has ceased from her singing, and sorrowful 
We who remain 

Miss the voice that, aspiring, 

Unfaltering, untiring. 

Sent forth the clear strain. 



[16] 



THE WILD BIRD 

The soul's wild bird on urgent wing 

Seeks the wide reaches of the upper air; 

Its eager flight that owns no lesser thing 
Soars swift as prayer. 

Enthralled, beset, in piteous plight 

The faltering pinions flutter on the sod; 

Poor bird, strive on, still may'st thou win the 
right 
To nest within the waiting heart of God. 



[17] 



DAWN 



The dewdrop stars, expiring, shine 

Where the gossamer mist on the hill lies gray ; 

And the black moth Night lifts quivering 

wings 
From the unblown rose of Day. 



[18] 



AN EARLY SONG 

The Spring has come, you say? Spring 

never goes ; 
Spring is not that which comes before the 

rose, — 
Not that alone, — the far, deep heart of things 
Is vital with innumerable springs. 

In depth of winter comes a smell of earth. 
And pale arbutus flushes 'neath the snow, — 
Deep down the life-blood pulses ; Spring is 

here, — 
Brave Spring, sweet Spring, that comes, but 

does not go ! 



[19] 



SEA-GULLS 

The white gulls follow the flying ship 
Afar and afar o'er the solemn deep ; 

Tho' beating wings may wearily dip, 

And battle the wind or the fierce wave-lip, 

Yet onward they follow, nor rest, nor sleep. 

My soul like a ship has sailed away 

From the quiet harbor it loved the best ; 

Out from the widening, darkening bay 
To the far mid-ocean's strong unrest ; — 

But on and on in the vessel's track 

The white-winged memories turn not back. 



[20] 



"LIKE A QUIET NUN" 

Like a quiet nun with her holy dreaming 
The mist-veiled river glides slowly by, 

Silent and peaceful and prayer-enfolded 
With guardian angels in wind and sky. 

At last by the mountain that strong and silent 
Hinders her feet on her patient way, 

She pauses, and bends in her supplication : 
"Absolve me, Father; I come to pray." 

Onward, forgiven, the humble river 
Free from the touch of soil or stain, 

With gentle murmur is praying, praying, 
Telling her beads in the drops of rain. 



[21] 



ANTICIPATION 

Gray wings, brown wings, a-flutter in the pine, 

What dream of nests has brought you to this 
winter-land of mine? 

The snow lies over all the fields, the sky is sun- 
less gray 

What prescience of the leafing- time has touched 
your flight to-day? 

♦ 

Gray wings, brown wings, that hover and that 
rest. 

There is no place on icy boughs for any feath- 
ered breast ; 

There is no bud on any twig that now fore- 
tells the shade 

That wavers in the sunlight when the summer 
nest is made. 

Gray wings, brown wings, a-flutter in the pine, 

There is no song for singing in this winter- 
land of mine. 

No Inn of Birds with a welcome for an all too 
early guest ; 

No song, no bloom, no breeze of spring, no 
shelter for a nest. 



[22] 



Gray wings, brown wings, ye soar in fearless 

glee; 
Brave little denizens of air, ye are more wise 

than we; 
Once more we were too dull to hear the message 

that ye bring: 
" 'Tis not the Spring that sends the birds, but 

birds that bear the Spring." 



[23] 



THE SOUND OF STREAMS 

Through twilight woods I wandered, doubt- 
ing, worn, 
One with the night that settled chill and 
slow; 
Hearing the wind through trees all tempest- 
torn. 
Wailing like souls that bear an endless woe; 
Yet, to niij listening ear a sound was borne 
Of small streams singing in the dark below. 

Then, timid, weary heart, with pain oppressed, 
Wand'ring where all unfriended thou must 

go, 
Heed not the wind's tumultuous unrest; 

For thus, in silence waiting, thou shalt know 
There is a sound, of all sweet sounds the best, — 

The small streams singing in the dark below. 



[£4] 



AFTER THE SHOWER 

T'piE clouds have parted; the burnished blue 
Of the sunset sky bends, smiling, over 

The dripping meadows, whose jewels shine 
On the lordly heads of the purple clover; 

And the warm sun kisses, at day's bright close 

The rain-wet cheek of the sweetbrier rose. 



[25] 



KIN 

The silken-skirted breeze across the lawn 
Tosses the petals of a yester-rose, 

O'erbends the grateful garden, and is gone, 
Leaving the breathless night to dead repose. 

Out from the caverns of the Northern sea, 
The tempest-hag, disheveled and forlorn, 

Flings wide defiance, crying, "Room for me! 
Of the same mother-wind we two were born." 



[26] 



WITH THE STREAM 

I HAVE been but a leaf on the stream, 

Carried beyond my will 
In the sweep and the whirl and the rush 

Of a life that is never still. 

I have watched the banks by day, 
Where the frailest flowers that grow 

Are calm and safe, with their roots knit deep 
In the quiet earth below. 

I ha,ve watched the stars at night. 

Serene, unmoved, and high; 
Nothing they know of the dark below 

Where a river is hurrying by. 

I am worn with the fret and the rush, 
With this fierce, mad haste to be; 

And yet, though a leaf, I have lived — I have 
lived, — 
And the air grows salt with the sea ! 



[27] 



THE TRIUMPH 

The small blue heralds of the grass, 
With noiseless note of welcoming, 

Stand ready near the tented fern 
To greet my Lady Spring. 

She passes down the woody ways 

Whose lazy brooks awake and shout. 

And smiles when sudden daffodils 
Fling loyal banners out. 

The cool brown earth beneath her tread 
Grows warm with hope of suns to be, 

And opens dim long-dreaming eyes, 
Drowsy with mystery. 

And bound in chains that never fret. 
Among her cheerful captives move 

All human hearts that once again 
Pledge truth to Spring and Love. 



[28] 



WINTER DAPFODILS 

Hinting subtle scents of Springtime, 
Perfumed damp of new brown mold, 

True to Nature's changeless instinct. 
Breathe the hothouse blooms I hold. 

Souls like these there are that struggle 
Through the warp of their intent, 

Still to show that deep within them 
Yearns that life that heaven meant. 



[29] 



FROM THE WOODS 

Here in the deep wood's green content 
I would be free of the sleepless town. 

Deaf to the tramp of those many feet 
That plod so patiently up and down. 

Free of the noise, the strife, the heat, 
Free of the voices of human woe; 

Here in this cloistered and cool retreat, 
Free of the toilers who come and go. 

Here in the green wood's shadowy peace, 
Lord, grant me courage and calm again 

The better to lighten with loyal heart 
The load of the sorrowful world of men. 



[30] 



PILGRIM BROOK 

BuowN-cowiiED among the cloistered trees 
Where no untutored eye may look, 

I found, intent on mysteries, 
A serious pilgrim brook. 

His rosary of pebbles bright 

Slipped o'er the sunshine's linked chain ; 
He told his beads from dawning light 

Till dusk drew on again. 

His patient feet, unhurried, trod 
Beneath the arches of the fern; 

He gave an alms to thirsty sod 
For blessings in return. 

Only the guardian stars above 

That watch o'er those who fare as he. 
Know how he seeks with eager love 

The green shrines of the sea. 



[31] 



THE AUTUMN STORM 

The somber afternoon has darkened down 
To one low-level plain of threatening cloud, 
Among whose masses the slow thunder stirs. 
Soon scant, infrequent drops make heavy 

sound 
Among the leafage, tossed by rising wind. 
Then, sheeted rain drives by — diaphanous. 
The tremulous lightning strikes athwart the 

drops 
And turns them all to hurtling amethyst ; 
Then flickers like the slender, half-hid flame 
Of some frail light held forth by one who 

stands 
In sweeping wind, and shields it with the folds 
Of swirling garments ; now it tears the sky 
From zenith to horizon with a rent 
Of purple splendor, fading ere 'tis done. 
The night draws swiftly on, and all the heaven 
Is silent, flameless, while the storm, appeased, 
Calms in persistent graciousness of rain. 



[3£] 



THE SPIRIT OF RAIN 

In the first greening and veiling of Spring 

Lo, a new, wondrous thing! 
Buds of the apple-tree, reddened and round, 
Grew breathless a space, nor with gladness 

unwound 
Their crurled petals to perish and fall. 

The pine, stern and tall, 

From its self-chosen place of command, 

Uplifted in air its dark hand; 
"Be ye still: 

Let the willow at foot of the hill 

Cease her love for the ripples that pass. 
Let the violets hid in the grass, 

Bend them low: 
Where the soft, hooded heads of the ferns push 
and grow, 

None must know. 

Have patience, have prayer. 
For the joy of the earth is your care. 
Now afar o'er the hill I can see 
Clouds gathering; motionless be. 

Till soft on ye all 

Rain shall faU. 

Then gladly arise. 

And grow fair for the eyes 
Of the Rain, who is Lady of May, and whose 
touch 



[33] 



Makes the quick-striving' pulse to rejoice over 
much : 

Then the willow shall fling 

Her bride-garments of Spring; 

And the brook that has grown 

To a river shall own 

She is fair, and be glad 
With a joy grown exultant and mad. 
While in happy surprise 
Let the low ranks of violets rise, 
Their faint censers of perfume a-swing. 
Tiny priests, purple-garbed like a king. 
And the buds that impatient are pausing, 
Over-wrought with the joy they are causing, 

Shall declare. 

Wide in air. 
The perfection of fragrance and bloom 
In Nature's uncrowded, great room; 

For all shall grow radiant, — plain, 

At the touch of the Spirit of Rain," 



[84] 



THE GATES OF PAN 

Open the gates to me, — lo, I am knocking, 
Open the gates to me, Pan of the Hills ! 

Now in the frost-benumbed darkness enfolded. 
Give me the dream and the life which it fills. 

I have come over the highways of Winter, 
Followed the flight of the cloud and the 
wing; 
Open the gates to me; give, for I famish 
Starved in the primal love-hungers of 
Spring. 

Tears for you, dreams for you, choked breath 
that stifles 
Soul-sense and heart-sense with joy of de- 
sire, — 
These be oblation at Spring's darkened altars, 
Reddening with ravished Promethean fire. 

Open the gates to me ! See, they are parting 
Wide to the flood of the gold and the blue. 

Who is the god of these green shrines of si- 
lence ? 
Pan of the Dawn, it is you — it is you! 



[35] 



THE POET'S MONTH 

Month of the poet's year, 

Earnest of summer-blue, 

Globed in thy dawn-dim dew 
Rainbows of promise appear. 

Chaucer hath sung of the dawn, 

The dew and the daisies of May; 
Joyfully forth he hath gone 

Ere the first blush of the day, 
Eager for spring-blossoms wan. 

Glad his devotion to pay, — 

Thrilling with May. 

Month of the Poet's year. 

We are captives of spring — thou art here! 

The singer of Scotland who drove 

His plow through the fresh-smelling fur- 
row, 

Guarded each field- creature's burrow. 
Full of his great-hearted love; 
His was the spirit that strove 

Humbly, as worshipers pray. 

To sing of the daisy — and May. 

Month of the poet's year. 

Claim of thine own, thou art here! * 



[36] 



Keats with the vow on his lips 

Sworn at his mistress's shrine, 

Knight-errant of Beauty, now sips 
To May in a nectar divine; 

Singing of "buds and of bells," 

Intimate secrets he tells 

Of blossom, of leaf and of vine. 

Month of the poet's year, 

Freed from the frost-forged chain, 

At last thou art here, thou art here! 
Thou weepest in odorous rain. 
For joy in thy freedom again. 



[87] 



"I KNOW A LANE" 

I KNOW a lane where twilight greens do cheat 
The envious sunshine, where the dew-tears cling 
Till mid-morn dries them with a mother's kiss. 
There you may hear, tho' noon be high in 

heaven. 
Small wings a-flutter, and the soft dawn-calls 
Of husj birds that build their nests low down, 
Careless who looks therein, — for none come 

here 
Save those whose hearts are tuned to tender- 
ness. 
No brooks there are, but one untroubled rill 
Draws close the weeds above its hidden bed, 
And sings, as one half -wakened, slumbrously. 
There would I be, in that remembered spot. 
Which, last of all God's handiwork, did know 
His touch. His smile, His verdict, — "It is 
good." 



[38] 



CHILDHOOD 



AT BETHLEHEM 

Unheeded on that night gone by, 
The Magi watched a Star on high; 
The wondering shepherds left their sheep, 
A mother waked her child to keep ; 
And none beheld, with quickened sight, 
A darkened world roll into light. 

Strength to enforce God's great commands 
Was folded in those baby hands ; 
Grace to behold a world of sin 
Dwelt those pure baby eyes within; 
And all the love God could impart 
Beat in a Child's all-loving heart. 

Across the far Judean hill 

The voice of angels soundeth still; 

Upon the slopes of Olivet 

The breath of prayer ariseth yet ; 

And cometh now to you and me 

Healing and love from Galilee. 

Gethsemane's appalling hour 
Awakes anew our failing power; 
We bow the head and bend the knee 
In gratitude for Calvary; 
But heaven came closest down to them 
Who watched in love at Bethlehem. 



[41] 



THE GOLDEN KINGS 

Three Kings went seeking the manger-bed; 

Dark was the night and the way was far; 
And ever they sang, for their hearts were led 

By the hope of the Holy Star. 

Dim was the mom in the cattle-cave; 

Dim was the light in a mother's eyes ; 
The Kings were troubled, their minds mis- 
gave, 

And were full of a sad surprise. 

They laid their gifts where the oxen trod; 

Israel's Savior, — can this be He, 
This child in the manger the Son of God 

With a message of liberty? 

Casper knelt by the Baby's side, 

(Love not alwaj^s may understand) 

And the gaze of the Child was sweet and wide 
As He touched the King's great hand. 

Melchior, — deeply his spirit saw — 

Raised not his face that was wet with tears ; 
His heart was stricken with love and awe 

And the vision of coming years. 



[42] 



Balthasar, feeling the pressure still 
Of childish arms that were far away, 

Pressed tender lips with a reverent thrill 
To a little foot in the hay. 

The years sped on ; with faith and prayer 
Casper had struggled to understand, 

And those whom he succored proclaimed him 
there 
The King of the Golden Hand. 

Melchior, stripped of his kingly pride, 
Bore with his people a brother's part; 

"Behold how he loves us," they gladly cried, 
"Our King with the Golden Heart." 

Balthasar's lips were swift to speak 

The message of gladness to old and young; 

For the love of the Child he had gone to seek 
Gave words to the Golden Tongue. 

O Golden Hand, O Golden Heart, 

O Tongue of Gold, — this bliss unbought, 

This joy in which the world bears part, 
Jesus, the Child, hath wrought. 



[43] 



THE SHEPHERDS' WAKING 

If 

The night wind swept the lonely fields, 
Where weary shepherds silent lay, 

Dreaming of toil with heavy brain. 
Watching for laggard day. 

One turned him in his restless sleep, 
Raised drowsy eyes to seek the sky ; 

"Fair days to come," he slowly spake. 
"Shepherds, the dawn is nigh." 

A blinding vision filled the air, 

Too pure, too bright for mortal ken. 

"Glory to God," an angel sang, 
"Peace and good will to men." 

As those who rouse and grope in dark 
With purpose of remembered light. 

The shepherds sought the Child whose face 
Made the poor shelter bright. 

O Lord, we wake, and watch, and grope; 

Unvisioned ways our feet have trod; 
Lead us, as they, o'er plains of night, 

To find the Christ of God! 



[M] 



EMMANUEL— GOD WITH US 

Sleeping in the manger rude 

King without a diadem, 
All His throne His mother's arms — - 

Jesus Christ of Bethehem. 

Earnest at His daily task 

Heeding what the father saith, 

Just a boy with thoughtful eyes, 
Jesus Christ of Nazareth. 

In a strong man's bitter pain 

Pleading in an agony, 
All the world upon His soul, 

Jesus of Gethsemane. 

Suffering, dying — praying still. 
There upon the cruel tree. 

Kingly, crowned with stinging thorn, 
Christ, the Christ of Calvary. 



[45] 



IN THE GARDEN 

There's a tender Eastern legend, 

In a volume old and rare, 
Of the Christ-child in his garden 

Walking with the children there. 

And it tells, this strange, sweet story ,- 
(True or false, ah, who shall say?) 

How a bird with broken pinion 
Dead within the garden lay. 

And the children, childish cruel. 
Lifted it by shattered wing. 

Shouting, "Make us merry music, — 
Sing, you lazy fellow, sing." 

But the Christ-child bent above it. 
Took it in his gentle hand. 

Full of pity for the suffering. 
He alone could understand. 

Whispered to it, — Oh, so softly! 

Laid his lips upon its throat. 
And the song-life, swift returning. 

Sounded out in one glad note. 



[46] 



Then away, on wings unwearied, 

Joyously it sang and soared, 
And the little children kneeling, 

Called the Christ-child, "Master— Lord." 



[47] 



A CHILD IN THE GARDEN 

Tell me the reason, tender Moss, 
Why soft thy cushions be? 
"Upon the rocks that once I clad 
The Lord Christ bent his knee, 
And now I carpet all the earth 
For those who pray as He." 

What meanest thou, O little Bird, 

That singest all the day, 

By stilling, as the night draws nigh, 

Thy loving, cheerful lay? 

"It is because at eventide 

Our Lord Christ knelt to pray." 

Now tell me why, thou little Flower, 

Thy petals shut are laid? 

When in the garden darkness falls 

Do blossoms feel afraid? 

"Ah no ! But once we bent our heads 

When our Lord Jesus prayed." 

Why is it, stately Cedar-tree, 

Thy branches incense bear? 

"Beneath my boughs the Lord of Life 

Has often knelt in prayer. 

To guard that sweet love-laden breath 

This was the Cedar's care." 



[48] 



MOTHER-ANGELS 

When a little child must go 

Out from love and warmth and home 
Where the winds of winter blow 
O'er the trackless dark below, 

Must it lost and lonely roam? 

No — ah no! Some mother-angel 
Tall and gracious, tender-eyed, 
Takes the little frightened hand, 
Guides across the Lonely Land 
Keeping ever close beside. 

Mother-angel, when they missed you 
From the choiring hosts of light 

Well they knew that you were waiting 
At the boundaries of night. 
And the Heavenly Father smiled — 
"She hath gone to meet a child !" 



[49] 



A CHILD'S HYMN 

How can little children 

Serve a glorious King? 
What have they to offer, 

What have they to bring? 
Willing hands for service, 

Eager feet to run 
On His mighty errands, 

Till the set of sun. 

Will He hear our praying. 

Will He stoop to bless? 
Does He bend above us 

In our helplessness? 
Yes, He answers always 

When the children cry, 
Guiding all their footsteps 

With a Father's eye. 

Little hands enfolding 

By His mighty power, 
He who formed the Heavens 

Careth for a flower. 
He who rules the nations 

Shelters in His arm 
All the little children, 

Safe from every harm. 



[50] 



THE LITTLE WHITE LAMB 

Green are the pastures of Sleepy-Land, 

Fresh are the fields and fair ; 
Wide are the ways to its Wonder-Fold, 

And my little lamb is there. 

Blue are the skies of Sleepy-Land ; 

Clear are the brooks and bright ; 
With a Shepherd-Dream to the Slumber Gate 

Went my little lamb last night. 

O tall Dream-Shepherd, I pray you, hear! 

Fair tho' your pastures be. 
Let down the bars, and bring once more 

My little white lamb to me. 



[51] 



DREAM-DEPTHS 

Far below ocean's roar and foam, 

In the gray-green dusk of the soundless 
deep, 
Delicate mosses cling and grow, 

Dreaming in tremulous, broken sleep. 

Below life's striving, its beat and stress, 
Its storm of sorrow, its rain of tears. 

Our childhood memories cling and sleep 

In the dim, cool depths of our silent years. 



[52] 



THE BRAVE HEART 

A PRAYER FOR MOTHERS 

Strengthen my heart, O God, 
For the strain of another day, 

When work begins and the toilful hours 
Leave never a space to pray. 

Quiet my heart, O God, 

Though the fever and fret increase, 
To know in its deepest solitude 

The springs of an inner peace. 

Lighten my heart, O God, 

To sing on a weary road. 
That some may listen and smile beneath 

The crush of the whelming load. 

Strength and courage and peace, 

I ask them, Lord, of Thee, 
For these are the angels set to guide 

O'er the way that I cannot see. 



[63] 



BLESSING 

The orchard tree, that loves the distant stars, 

Bends low to bless, 
Content to friend the people of the grass 

In watchfulness. 
And let a grateful bird, for home secure, 

Its praise confess. 

Wise mother-heart, to whom is much denied. 

Do thou no less ; 
Small, clinging arms restrain, and trivial tasks 

Thy days oppress ; 
Learn the dear teaching of the orchard trees. 

That bend, — to bless. 



[54] 



HER ANGEL 

Tell the Father, little angel, 

Of my baby's joy; 
How the earth-child gives in gladness 

Laughter for a toy. 

Tell the Father, little angel, 

Of my baby's tears ; 
I, her mother, stoop to kiss them, 

Bend to still her fears. 

Little angel, pause in silence; 

This is not thy care. 
The great God himself will listen 

To my baby's prayer. 



[55] 



MEMORY 

I START and listen as of old, 
In watching hours at night, 

To hear a little wailing voice 
That cries aloud for fright. 

The silence is alive with sound; 

Across a waste of years, 
I bend my face to touch her cheek. 

And kiss my baby's tears. 



[56] 



MOTHERS 

A DUSKY figure clasping to her heart 

A small, warm body, makes her pleading 
wild 

To an insensate stone ; the mother cry — 
"Have mercy, O have mercy on the child!" 

Before the Man of Galilee, whose arm 
Supports a little smiling, drowsy head. 

There kneels a woman; this her world-old 
prayer : 
"Rabboni, bless him, — I am comforted." 



[57] 



LOVE 



LOVE SPEAKS 

At the revel of the world 

Sat the strong kings, Greed and Power, 
While a pilgrim paused without 

In the midnight hour. 
"Wealth is here for all," they said. 
(Is that gold that gleams so red? 

Skies are bending black above). 

"Tears be wealth," quoth Love. 

At the revel of the world 

Laughed the great lords. Lust and Fame, 
While the night-wind sighing low 

Breathed the pilgrim's name. 
"Crowns are here for all," they said. 
(Are those gems that glow so red? 

Never star shines out above). 

"Thorns be crowns," quoth Love, 



[61] 



A SONNET OF LOVERS 

Men have loved women after many ways : 
Purely, as Dante, making love a prayer 
For Beatrice ; in a wild despair, 

As Petrarch loved, who san^ for Laura's 
praise ; 

With strong desire that stained with crime 
their days. 
As Antony, or Abelard, to dare 
Caesar^ — ^or God; or as that one who bare 

His Argive Helen Ilium's towers to raze. 

Kingdoms and states, honor and faith, have 
stood 
Unshaken till some fatal moment when 
A woman's smile, alluring, shone above, 
O'er-dazzling fame or valor, wealth or good. 
Priest, scholar, warrior, — so they be men, 
In every age they sell their souls for love. 



[62] 



SNOW SUMMITS 

Love is not all the valley and the rose ; 

Love is the Alpine peak, that, lone and cold, 
Rests uncomplaining in the steady hold 

Of Honor's stainless and eternal snows. 

Across renunciation's height there glows 

The light of stars that bring all Heaven 

near ; 
Who strives to this hath nothing more to 
fear; 
Love is not all the valley and the rose. 



[63] 



FOR HELEN 

My thoughts are like the little birds. 

Your heart is like the nest; 
They rove the sky on fearless wings. 

To you they come for rest, 
Well-knowing, though the world be fair, 

Your tender love is best. 

My songs are like the little streams. 

Your heart is like the sea; 
Though through the woods they wander on 

So careless, glad, and free. 
They seek at last the silent deep — 

They come at last to thee. 



[64] 



A SONG FOR HELEN 

Good-night, Sweetheart, how often times like 
this 
Have I looked long into your tender eyes, 
Full of a love too sweet to know disguise. 
And said, with lips the purer for your kiss, 
"Good-night, Sweetheart." 

Good-night, Sweetheart, tho' now so far away 
That I can see you only in my dreams. 

Still, as I kiss the pictured lips it seems 
That I can hold you close again, and say, 
"Good-night, Sweetheart." 



[65] 



MY LADY'S SONG 

i 

She mindeth me of little blooms, 
So frail and faint and shy, 
That grow where, thro' the shady nooks, 
A laggard brook slips by; 

Of all things sweet and fair and free, 
She mindeth me — she mindeth me! 

She mindeth me of woodland pools. 
Transparent, brown, and deep, 
In whose pellucid, amber depths 
Long days of sunshine sleep. 

Of all things strong and deep and free. 
She mindeth me — she mindeth me! 



[66] 



CAPTIVE CONTENT 

Love's caged bird am I, 

Captive content to be; 
I have no world beyond the bars, 

I seek no liberty. 

Such food as Love provides 

For hunger's sake I eat; 
The birds that dwell 'neath open sky 

Find better drink and meat. 

What use have I for wings 
Whose flight is but a span.^^ 

I cannot even build a nest 
As God's free creatures can. 

Love sent me forth one day 
With mocking and disdain; 

In fright and loneliness I sought 
My prison-house again. 

And yet withal I sing 

Who may no further rove; 

My cage is widest world to me, 
Captive content of Love. 



[67] 



LOVE 

Master of men, no merry child art thou 

That girt with playtime weapons in the sun 
Dost lilt and laugh through light heart 
hours that run, 

With trivial blossoms o'er a careless brow. 

Not at such errant feet strong hearts shall bow 
With penitence for loyalties undone, 
With offerings by faith and valor won, 

Or heart-break stricken dumb of easy vow. 

Thou grave-eyed god, thy temple is the steep 
Rough crag of Honor; silent and apart 
Thy presence foldeth dark that inner shrine. 

Where life's still mysteries, trembling out of 
sleep. 

Unveiled rise before the pure in heart 
Whose holy passion glows akin to thine. 



[68] 



MESSENGERS 

The tender thoughts you think of me 
Flutter like wings against my breast, 

As birds for which my heart shall be 
The waiting nest. 

I feel them in the air above 

Like the soft touch of living wings ; 
And one that bears your deepest love 

Alights and sings. 

O Birds, my Birds, I go my way 

But by your flood of soundless song, 

Through the long spaces of the day 
My soul grows strong. 



[69] 



THE SINGER 

The rough world takes me fiercely by the 
throat : — 

"Sing thou, and earn thy bread. 
Thou canst make music, give us now a song 

Ere day is sped." 

"We pay thee well — now tell us of thy pain 

In fluent verses strong; 
For thou hast suffered. Sing us as we wait 

Some mournful song." 

My heart and brain were silent all the day ; 

My very soul was numb. 
I had no songs. For gladness or for pain 

My lips were dumb. 

Love waked me in the night when stars were 
high. 

When winds were blowing free: — 
"Canst thou not fashion from thy deepest soul 

A song for me.?" 

Then falling like the blossoms of the spring, 

So thick they came and fast. 
Songs drifted white and fragrant on my soul; 

I sang at last. 



[70] 



MID-SEA 

Love is the sunlight on the spray, 
A rainbow gleam of bliss and tears, 

While life's mid-ocean, far away 
Darkens with surging fears. 

This is the solemn undertone 

Of that unguessed, eternal strife; 

Each soul must breast the seas alone; 
Love is not all of life. 



[71] 



THE UNDESIRED 

They wrong thee, Love, who prate of joy; 

Few are the blisses thou dost bring. 
The year holds bitter storm and dark 

For one dear day of Spring. 

Heavy the crosses thou dost build 

And bid us fainting bear ; 
Thorny the crowns thy pale hands weave 

For paler brows to wear. 

Gray Memory tendeth graves for thee, 

Filling her heart with tears ; 
And weareth rue and rosemary 

Through numb and laggard years. 

Is there no place where thou art not? 

No spot where we are free? 
Yet, vanished — for one look I'd fling 

My soul itself to thee. 



[72] 



BONDS 

When Dark hath set the vexed soul 
From chain and drudging free, 

Mj thoughts, released, in eager course 
Unswerving haste to thee. 

When Dawn, with manacles agape. 

Their jailer comes to be, 
They crowd more close, reluctant gaze. 

And turn, wet-eyed, from thee. 

Chide not their sullen, captive hour; 

Thou hast not known them free; 
For then they run, they leap, they soar,- 

To be again with thee! 



[78] 



WHEN LOVE WAS YOUNG 

Love is bending^ above the stream, 

And his childish face is merry, 
As with joy unbounded and hope supreme, 
Among the ripples that dance and gleam, 

He launches a roseleaf wherry. 

Down by the willows the stream grows wide. 

On to the river sweeping; 
And the roseleaf boat, in its dainty pride, 
Is torn and muddy and tossed aside. 

While Love on the bank is weeping. 

Though Love grows older, though now the lips 
Are graver that once were merry. 

Though across the sea sail his great white 
ships, 

Yet I know that still, as each strong bow dips, 
He sighs for the roseleaf wherry. 



[74] 



AUCASSIN ET NICOLETE 

Sweet his lady, fair of face, 
From the turret to the ground 

In a moment's breathless space 
Glad escape has found. 

Swift she takes her wilful way 

Past the blossoms drenched in dew, 

(What if Aucassin were I — 
Nicolete were you !) 

Fair white daisies 'gainst her feet 

Show less white, less pure than they; 

Through the shadowy, moonlit street 
Love has found a way. 

To the dungeon deep and chill 
Comes she where her lover lies, 

And the air is all athrill 
With his passion-cries. 

Sharp and bright her dagger gleams, 

As she cuts her yellow hair; 
Throws it him who oft in dreams 

Kissed and called it fair; 



[75] 



Whispers, ere she turns to fly, 
All the old words, dear and true ; 

(Ah, that Aucassin were I — 
Nicolete were you!) 

What is left to us to-day 

From that simple, elder time? 

Just the half-forgotten way 
Of a captive's rhyme. 

Yet it breathes of courage high. 
Strong Love, swift to dare and do; 

(Ah, that Aucassin were I! 
Nicolete were you!) 



[76] 



IN SILENCE 

I THINK of you in the silence, 
Away from the busy throng; 

And every dream is a blessing, 
And every thought is a song. 

And yet, when I move with others 
Through the cares of a toilful day, 

There's a sound in my heart of singing 
That lightens the weary way. 

Oh, Love, that I love through the tumult, 
Through tossing and surge and strife, 

It is then that I hold you closely 
Down in the deeps of life. 

But, Love, that I love in the stillness. 
When hearts are attuned to rest. 

It is then that I love you only. 
It is then that I love you best. 



[77] 



FOR NELL 

When my sweete girle dothe touche herre 
lippes 

Untoe ye cuppe his rimme, 
You'll sweetnesse at ye bottome finde, 

And sweetness at ye brimme. 

And he who of ye sugar then 

Withe fulle contentment sippes, 
Is only one who never knew 

Ye sweetnesse of herre lippes. 



[78] 



ON Y VOIT V AM OUR 

I SEE upon the yellowed page 

A purple stain; 
The book is worn with use and age, 
Its thoughts are deep, its words are sage. 

It would disdain 
So light a thing as love, I fear, 
And yet a lover's hand left here. 

With loving pain. 
The little flower that shows so clear 

Its purple stain. 



[79] 



THE BEE 

HoNEY-DUENCHED in the soul of a flower, 

Unsated with sweet, 
Plucked forth, trampled down 'neath the power 

Of alien feet. 
Still a-thrill with the warmth of the hour 

When the blossom-heart beat, — 

Thus he lies, torn of wing. 

Crushed, stunned, with an impotent sting 

Thrusting rose-leaves that storm through the 

air; 
Only that to hold life from despair. 

So merciless Fate 

Bade me go ; 
From the fragrance and warmth of thy breast 

Swept me low. 
And the pitying world in an hour 

Hath forgotten the bee and the flower. 



[80] 



ONE DAY 

In fields close gilt with buttercups 

I found a violet; 
Its tiny petals half-unclosed 

With early dew were wet. 

happy field of buttercups, 
O dearer violet! 

In all the years of rich content 
Whereof you never knew, 

1 found one little fragrant hour 
Impearled with memory's dew. 

happy years of deep content, 
dearer day with you! 



[81] 



AFTER 

When the gray boats shiver and bend and flee, 
When a salt wind drives from the open sea, 
When the strong gull knoweth a storm for a 
heart. 
We two must part. 

For the unforgettable gold and blue 
Is dead in the grave of the sun with you; 
Joy of my joy, — ah, my grasp was vain: 
Thou art changed to pain! 



[82] 



BEYOND RECALL 

I HAVE shut the door of my heart, 
And locked it with keys of doubt. 

I am lonely enough within, 
And you are alone without. 

There's a feel of storm in the air. 

Poor child, you will fear it, too ; 
You cannot come to my arms again, 

'Twill be lonely enough for you. 

You will lose your way in the dark; 

My love was your guiding light. 
And now you are all alone 

In the storm and the coming night. 

It is safe and warm within, 
(But the door is bolted fast,) 

I am restless and full of pain. 

And I wish that the storm were past. 

I almost wish that again 

My arms could be opened wide, 

And you would come, as of old. 
For shelter and love inside. 



[83] 



You will lose your way in the dark; 

I almost wish you could see 
The light that I hold ; but its flame burns low, 

'Tis scarcely enough for me. 

I wish, oh! I wish it quite, 

I long with exceeding pain. 
To hold you again, to forgive you again, 

To love you with might and main. 

Come in — I unbolt the door; 

Come back — for I throw it wide; 
You are lonely, so lonely, I know, without. 

And I am alone inside. 

Again and again I call. 

Why do you make me wait? 
The fire is burning, and love is here, 

And the hour is growing late. 

You will never come back again? 

Is that what the silence saith? 
I have shut you out — I have shut you out 

To loneliness, dark, and death! 



[84] 



WITH WINGS 

He sang of lands of warmth and sun, 
Engirt by orient colors rare, 

Where slumbered one with passion's heart 
And midnight in her hair. 

Yet he who sang lacked daily bread, 
And dwelt beneath a sky unkind. 

Forgotten of the careless world, — 
Unloved and old and blind. 



[85] 



SEA SOUL 

The sullen sea lies cold and gray 

And huddled far below 
Are the newly dead of yesterday 

And the dead of long ago. 

Yet once within the sun's embrace, 
The blue wave thrilled with bliss, 

And Aphrodite's laughing face 
Was that incarnate kiss. 

O Love, O Death — each soul's dark sea 
Holds thy dread secrets well; 

Untaught, we sound the mystery 
Of Heaven and of Hell. 



[86] 



THE FOOL'S SONG 

Some day, mj masters, I shall love no more, — 
I who have laughed for love and sung my 
song; 
Time's cool, gray hands shall turn my hot heart 
o'er. 
Disdainful, as a wine cup filled too long. 
But even as the last red drop is poured. 

My lute shall whisper — "Love — not Death — 
is Lord." 



[87] 



HELOISE TO ABELARD 

You have been grief to me, and blinding pain; 

You have been sorrow of an old despair; 
Yours was the voice of all things lost and vain; 

You bound me burdens that were sore to bear. 

You have been joy to me, and catching breath 
Of ecstasy that bade my pulses cease ; 

You have been freedom from the fear of death, 
You have been calm of conflict's hard-won 
peace. 

Your hands have wrung the last red vital drop 
Of bliss and woe from my surrendered heart. 

Now — life and time and heaven must fail and 
stop. 
Because, forever, thou and I must part. 



[88] 



HELOISE TO GOD 

God, send an angel! I am sorely pressed 
In struggle with Love's naked, unarmed 
might ; 

Each particle of power I possessed 

I dragged to conflict in the unequal fight. 

And I have fought and failed upon his breast 
Once more to-night. 

How can the little quivering form of Prayer 
Stand long between my soul and passion's 
power? 
She needs must flee to some diviner air 

Where dwell those hearts without such 
earthly dower 
Of life and longing, rapture and despair. 
As fill this hour. 

God, send an angel ! Of Thy sovereign will 
Bid Michael bring the hosts of Heaven to 
aid 
One human soul, lest Love should strike to kill. 
And none should guess how as I strove I 
prayed. 
Knowing if I be smitten stark and still 
'Twas God delayed ! 



[89] 



THE LIE 

How brave the lie was as she flung it out ! — 
Woman's poor shelter in her hour of need; 

Blackening her lips with laughter none might 
doubt, 
To keep her soul unspotted from the deed. 

Not low enough nor mean enough to pay 

Truth's awful price — lives twined within her 
own; 
Oh, easier far, denying day by day 

Her soul's high gods that thundered from 
the throne ! 

And when her time comes to be judged for this, 
By Him who sees life truly, sees it whole, — 

For His eye clean, and bare of earthly bliss, 
Stands one who dared to lie to save her soul. 



[90] 



WOMAN'S LOVE 

Life was a nun all garbed in gray, 

Who walked alone, apart, 
With smileless lips that moved to pray. 

And meek hands on her heart. 

Love was a king who chanced to pass 

On lightsome quest intent ; 
He followed o'er the untrod grass 

The quiet way she went. 

His warm eyes held her for an hour 

In that dear garden plot; 
The kiss, the token and the flower^ — 

Only the king forgot ! 



[91] 



THAT WHICH ABIDES 

Death has robbed me, Life has robbed me; 

Only Love has proven true — 
Love that flies above the tempest, 

Lost in blue; 
Love that wears your smile, your gesture, 

Eyes of you! 

Thus have I, from Time's strange salvage, 
More than Death can take away; 

More than Life can hurt or squander 
In its day; 

Love remains, and smiles upon me 
Your old way! 



[92] 



LIFE 



CLOISTERED 

The holy cloisters of the inmost Soul 

Are full of gray- robed thoughts that silently, 

Head bowed on bosom, tell, with trembling 

hands, 
The well-worn rosary of our daily fears. 
What do we ask for them? Peace to be free — 
To wander unmolested, safe from speech 
Or question from the friend who knows us best. 

Ours is the right to bar the outer doors ; 
To let them pray and weep in darkened halls 
As we and they shall deem our life hath need. 
The friends outside shall sit them in the sun 
Where gay-hued gardens gladden in the wind. 
To draw their hearts from lingering round the 

door. 
Closed, barred, and locked from their too- 
kindly eyes. 



[96] 



UPHELD 

Love holds me in the hollow of his hand 

And bids me try 
To pierce the dark that he alone hath spanned, 

And reach the sky. 

Love holds me in the hollow of his hand 

And bids me sing, 
While chanting stars and rushing worlds with- 
stand 

My murmuring. 

Love bids me, in the hollow of his hand. 

At peace to be ; 
Content that what I fail to understand 

Is best for me. 

I sing my song, I struggle hope, or rest; 

He bends above: 
My frail wings own for their unshaken nest 

Almighty love. 



[96] 



SINCE EDEN 

The Tree of Life, in chaos rooted deep, 
Rises through evil mists, whose glooming hides 
Truth's struggling beams. Its thick-grown 

branches bear 
Leafage of human peril, passion, pain, 
Whose density adds shade to shadow still. 
Yet in the stormless upper realm it spreads, 
To perfect in eternity's wide air 
The wonder-bloom of immortality. 



[97] 



UPWARD 

I KNOW, O World, thou art a place of sin, — 

The sordid story of thy shame I read; 
Lies sound without; strange fires bum fierce 
within 
And many a face is stamped with lust and 
greed. 

These things are so, and yet, beyond all this. 
Poor sorrowing World, thou hold'st an up- 
ward way. 
Childhood and Love and Prayer and Hope are 
thine, 
And on the far horizon lieth day. 



[98] 



OUTCAST 

I SAW a beggar at a palace gate, 

Who wrapped him in his rags, and stood 
alone, 
Gazing within, where light and beauty shone, 

And where the merry revel lingered late. 
I saw him stand, and still in patience wait 

Till every guest was gone; but not a moan 
Escaped his lips. He stood as carved in stone. 

And all his heart was filled with bitter hate. 
Then I drew near, and looked upon those halls, 

So strange-familiar. Waked as from a 
dream, 
I felt a wave of anguish o'er me roll ; 

I knew at last this outcast by the walls, 
And in his wretched eyes I saw a gleam, 

"This is thy Life," he said ; "I am thy soul." 



[99] 



SERVICE 

The slave of dreams goes smiling by, 
Turning a song for all who list; 

He has almost forgot to hide 
The fetter on his wrist. 

The slave of dreams sleeps soft and deep, 
And wakes with day-long joy endued ; 

He scarce remembers now the fret 
Of golden servitude. 

And I have watchings, fastings, prayer; 

Desire with stern denial wrung. 
The loudest song within my heart 

Dies on my lips unsung. 

And I have tears for daily bread 

And days of longing, nights of pain, 

With endless toiling up the steeps 
Whose summits none may gain. 

Think you that I despair for this? 

Across the night-enshrouded peaks 
The splendor from the face of Truth 

Illumes the soul that seeks. 



[100] 



What though the vision fade and pass, 
The dark anew encumbereth me? 

My joy is still to serve the Truth, 
Erect, aspiring, — free! 



[101] 



CHOICE 

What is the cargo, Soul? 

The merchandise of kings, 
The spoils and gems of lands afar. 

Or a freight of trivial things? 

Where is the voyage. Soul? 

To shores that are steeped in sun? 
Or the barren islands of Brief Desire 

That shelter when day is done? 

The breezes are fair and soft 

While the mooring holds in sight. 

But his is the guerdon who dares to sail 
Where the world is rimmed with light. 



[102] 



YOKEFELLOWS 

Love faints, o'erburdened ; joy is dead: 
How shall I drag my load alone? 

Hope walks apart with downcast head, 
Nor heeds the moan, 

"Is none to help and none to heed 

A soul oppressed with direst need?" 

Stern Duty answers to the call: 

"When all are gone I come to thee ; 

The burdens 'neath which others fall 
Grow light with me ; 

For I will help and I will heed ; 

My strength alone shall serve thy need." 



[103] 



THE UNREALIZED 

In the press of the city's fierce restraint 

Where the high walls glare on the heated 
street, 

Where the breath of heaven is thick and faint, 
And sound is lost in the rush of feet, 

Can you believe, can you feel with me, 

That somewhere is shadow and wind and sea? 

You cannot? Nor I. My thought with pain 
Drags heavily over the hours just fled. 

And moves in the heat and the sound again 
That surge unquieted through my head. 

I shall know there is shadow and wind and sea, 

Only when I am unfettered — free. 

O God, it is so with our dreams of heaven; 

It is even so with our thought of Thee, 
All that seems true is the life that's given 

To care of our restless mortality. 
And yet — when we are at peace and free. 
How blessedly true will Thy heaven be! 



[ 104 ] 



MAKING THE BEST OF IT 

A FOOT of sky thro' a dusty pane, 

Yellow with sun, or gray with rain ; 

Yet you never need look for the sky in vain. 

The sad little pain-tossed watcher sees. 

If he patiently kneel on his small, tired knees, 

A glimpse of the greening tops of trees. 

His vision at night is a rosy bar 

Of the sunrise splendor, so fair and far; 

The hope of his day is an evening star. 

But the dream of dreams, and it once came true, 

Was a tiny cloud in the patch of blue, 

A cloud, and the bird that across it flew. 

Sunset skies thro' a dusty pane. 

Stars and clouds and the morn again, — 

Yet you never need look for the sky in vain. 



[lOS] 



GRATITUDE 

I THANK Thee, Lord, at break of day 
When all the East is red with sun, 

For health and hope and heart to say, 

"I would be part of any way 

In which the will of God is done." 

I thank Thee, at the time of rest, 

For strength that held the long day through ; 
Footsore and worn, yet peace-possessed, 
I know the honest toil is best 

Of him who strives Thy will to do. 

And though the task that I have sought 

Transcends my hands' unaided skill, 
I thank Thee for this mighty thought — 
That all the wonders to be wrought 
Lie hidden in Thy perfect will. 



[106] 



MASTERY 

I WILL front my life in the hush and pause 
Since the last blow fell ; I will ask it now 

With truth between, and the challenge down, 
"Which of us two shall bow?" 

Shall I rule my life, or shall it rule me? 

Am I lord, or slave? Shall I bend me still 
In dull submission to force too strong 

For a weakened human will? 

No. I am master; tho' wounded sore, 
A thrall of dreams, or a fool of chance, 

Tho' bound in an ancient servitude 
By fetters of circumstance. 

Yet, face me, Life that is known as mine! 

Thou art the slave. I will wrest from thee 
The lash and the chain ; I will know myself 

Ruler at last — and free! 



[ 107 ] 



THE THANKFUL HEART 

I THANK thee, Lord, for simple good; 

Full well I know it comes from thee; 
Its gifts of gladness understood, 

O'erbrim the thankful heart of me. 

For health and home and human love, — 
So great are these, so half divine, 

Lord, I would cavil not, nor rove. 
Content to call these blessings mine. 

I thank thee. Lord, yea, even for this — 
The ache of sorrow and the smart, 

For comfort deep as grieving is 

Comes from thy touch upon my heart. 

Before thee. Lord, I would upraise 
These treasures which are soul of me; 

Lo, with such broken words of praise 
I lift a thankful heart to thee. 



[108] 



PRAYER 

Tonight I lay the burden by, 
As one who rests beside the road. 

And from his wearied back unbinds 
The whelming load. 

I kneel by hidden pools of prayer. 

Still waters fraught with healing power ; 

In God's green pastures I abide 
This longed-for hour. 

I know that day must bid me face 
Courageously my task again. 

Serving with steady hand and heart 
My fellow men. 

To hold my sorrow in the dark. 

To fight my fear, to hide my pain. 

And never for an hour to dream 
The toil is vain ; — 

This be tomorrow; now, tonight, 
Great pitying Father, I would be 

Forgiven, uplifted, loved, renewed, 
Alone with Thee. 



[109] 



RECREANT 

Lord, hearken! What am I 

To dare to seek thy face, 
When beaten in the fight. 

And laggard in the race? 

What I have done is done. I did not pray 
In doubt and darkness for a guiding ray — 
The light shone full upon the field that day 
I cast my sword away. 

Why tempt the onslaught? Who would miss 

me there 
When distant coward paths showed falsely fair? 
There is no plea upon his lips who chose 
To flee before his foes ! 



This, this I would implore — 

Not pardon. Lord, — 
Only, another chance — another sword! 



[110] 



CROWNS 

O Christ, thej name thee greatest man of men, 

Thy purity, thy patience they avow; 
The Teacher come from God — they hold thee 
thus. 
And bind proud wreaths of laurel on thy 
brow. 

And we, who know thee as the eye knows light. 
Almighty love in human semblance borne, 

Own sway of pierced hands ; Oh, God's great 
heart. 
Hast thou forgiveness for a crown of thorn? 



[Ill] 



THE HOUSE OF GOD 

O HOUSE of God, thy memoried walls, 
Dearer with every year that flies, 

Speak of the faith of those who wrought 
With prayer and sacrifice. 

Beneath the silence broods a sound 

Of holy voices, unforgot; 
The brave and patient dead once more 

Are in this hallowed spot. 

The heritage of love is ours, 

A father's zeal, a mother's prayer, 
The touch of far-off little hands, — 

All these are there. 

Ours is the grief of those who wept; 

The joy of their success is ours; 
Out of the seed in darkness sown 

Behold the flowers ! 

God of our fathers, hear the prayer 
We offer humbly unto Thee; 

More worthy of the saints in light 
May this Thy people be. 



[112] 



CREED 

Thou brooding shadow that enfoldest earth, 
In whose protecting name dark deeds are 
done, 
Between us and the high, full-risen sun 
Thou stand'st, forbidding that the light have 

birth. 
This is thine excellence, this all thy worth. 
That thou hast guarded with thy shade, that 
none 
Be overcome by stress of heat, nor won 
To leave thy shelter in the time of dearth. 

Yet now, remove, for we are men and grown; 
Strong that we flinch not at the fiercer ray 
That strikes where we so long in gloom 
have trod. 
In the new splendor we shall stand and own 
A faith revived, a Life, a Truth, a Way. 
Outworn and vain, withdraw, — and show 
us God! 



[113] 



FROM THE SHRINE 
Oh, Best of all good things ! Oh, highest 

joy 

Of dreamful days, of deep, envisioned nights, 
Heart of all shadows, blaze of sun-delights, 
Sweetness that cannot satiate, cannot cloy! 

Art of the poet, I have knelt before 

The shrine I sought to in the tuneless days ; 
My silent soul has paused in wordless praise. 

Waiting one iridescent gleam the more ; 

That gleam — a violet word; a golden thought; 
An azure heaven revealed ; the woods' green 

name; 
The crimson tide of passion, hope or 
fame, — 
The pure perfection of my peace has wrought. 

The sullenness of heavy times that go 

Slow footed, thick of brain and dull of heart, 
These hold no pain for me, no smallest smart, 

If through the dark thine altar-tapers glow. 



[ 114 ] 



THALATTA 

i 

Across the scorching stretch of desert sand, 

Where noon glares pitilessly on the waste, 

A caravan, toil-worn, yet still in haste 

Is pressing on. Tho' scarce they can withstand 

Their strong fatigue, yet not on either hand 

Seek they repose. The tempting spring they 

taste. 
Impatient to be gone — for they are faced 
Toward that dim line that marks the ocean 
strand. 

O sea of Truth! whose distant waters shine 
So faint and far that hardly we discern 
The gleam that guides us, Hope and Faith 
can see 
Those vast, untrammeled, wind-swept deeps of 
thine, 
And there are many who, unfaltering, turn 
Expectant eyes, and struggle on to thee. 



[115] 



SYMPATHY 

If we should be so quick of heart, 

So keen of sight, 
That we could feel each shadow's gloom, 

Each blossom's blight, 
The fairest of earth's blue-gold days 

Would turn to night. 

If we should grow so swift to feel 

Each human pain 
That for each aching human heart 

Ours ached again. 
Life were all weariness, and joy 

Grown poor and vain. 

Some sounds are lost in silence, though 

We reverent hark; 
Some sights are shut from anxious eyes 

By pitying dark. 
The limit of the soul's out-gift 

Has finite mark. 



[116] 



PROGRESS 

When I've thought the deepest I can, 
The strongest, the wisest, the best, 
And hfe's large, excellent plan 

Out-widens my narrower breast, 
When I'm dead, I say. 
They will find the way. 

When I've sung my defective songs, 

That touch the soul's outermost edge. 
When I've gazed at the world's wall of wrongs. 
And with labor have entered my wedge, 
I shall die at last 
And work be past. 

But some day those yet unborn 

Shall take my unfinished thought, 
This work that has eaten and worn; 
Then toil did not go for nought. 
But what will they do? 
If I only knew! 

They will write, they will paint, (and well,) 
Thought, color, that we have dreamed; 
They will plan, sing, struggle, and tell 

Of the past, how imperfect it seemed — 
When we who are dead. 
Are forgot overhead! 

[ 11^ ] 



NIGHT AND NOON 

The gloom of night is dense and deep ; 

Rough is the path as we grope along; 
Courage, Heart, as the shadows creep, 
This is the matin-song: 
After the night is noon; 

After the journey, rest; 
The world will waken in gladness soon 
And the heart that sings is blest. 

The glare of the sun is hard and hot. 

The road is dusty, the way is long; 
Shift your burden and heed it not — 
This is the even-song: 
After the noon is night ; 

After the journey, rest; 
For the wind will wake and the stars be 
bright 
And the heart that sings is blest, 



[118] 



CONVALESCENT 

Day darkened from the dawn, and softened 

round 
With silences that spare the nerves of life; 
Day, slipping sleepily toward dusk, that soon 
Deepens to night, and like a drowsing tide 
Lazily washes the new shores of mom. 
This, endlessly, until the past becomes 
A uniform gray haze ; the future grows 
Blank and illimitable nothingness. 

A little shiver of expectancy; 

A window open to the curious sun ; 

A thin, sweet gust of air across the bed; 

A robin's single note; the wafted sound 

Of steps that echo through the quiet street. 

Then, swift into the sluggish blood there glides 

Hope's stinging ichor. Life's new, subtle sense 

Of power resurgent from the deeps of death. 



[119] 



FREEDOM 

Slave souls would flee in terror to escape 
Life's bloodhound jaws, Love's lash and toil 

and chain, 
And brave a thousand deaths no more to know 
The unyielding, iron mastery of Pain. 

Buy thou thy freedom ; lay thy patient hoard 

Of daily duty, daily strife, and prayer. 

To count thy soul's release, — true freedman 

now, 
Erect and fearless, thou who daredst not dare! 



[120] 



FUTILITY 

My unknown enemy and I 

Faced each to each with struggle spent, 
Till coward Self gave woeful cry; 

"Have mercy, I repent!" 

Before those eyes, deep-seeing, stern, 
For terror would I cringe and flee ; 

On chilling fear fall words that burn; 
"I am thy Soul. Why lie to me?" 



[m] 



CAGES 

Once in Florence sat a toiler, weaving cages 

light and strong, 
And a Poet, meditative, watched his busy 

fingers fly; 
"Friend, what dost thou? Making prisons 
That perchance will hold a song." 
Quick upon him smiled the Poet : 
"Friend, God speed thee! Thus do I." 



[ 122 ], 



CATHEDRALS 

Old England turned its dreams to stone, 
Bound aspiration to a tower ; 

Found room for hope where swallows own 
The brief contentment of an hour. 

New England built of heart and brain, 
With strife and victory inwrought 

Her better walls of prayer and pain, 
Imperishable domes of thought. 



[1^3] 



THE REMEMBERED LAND 

''And he wept, remembering his father and the Land of 
Lyonesse." 

They come to me in deeps of night, 

They haunt my steps by day, 
Those lost and fair and dreaming years 

So far — so far away ! 
And I who know both sin and pain 

Am clean as souls that pray. 

The unforgot, the visioned years 

Are far and far away; 
And all the flowering hills of morn 

Are touched with twilight gray. 
Distant and dear the sunlit path 

That leads from yesterday! 

For all the noon-day world is wide, 
And some are worn and gray, 

But deathless dwells the golden dream 
Of Love and Yesterday! 

Oh, Youth's lost land of Lyonesse, 
How far thou art away! 



[124] 



DEATH 



GREATER GRIEF 

If Death should turn thy smile to stone, 
And bind thy heart in iron frost, 

Scarce would I pause to weep alone, 
To mourn thee lost. 

Since Life makes lips more feverish-gay, 
And old love pales in new delight, 

'Twould grieve me less if one should say, 
"She died to-night." 



[127] 



LAZARUS 

Beneath the leaden eyelid steals 
The grayness of a lesser night, 

And in the heavy brain there wakes 
A sense presaging sight. 

The sluggish blood renews with pain 

Its tide in icy rigor pent; 
And pulsing life with struggle breaks 

Death's listless, cold content. 

With agonized, exultant pang 

The soul resumes its hindering clay; 

The inert frame reluctant owns 
The old familiar sway. 

Out, out into the sunshine, free 

As the first man that ere drew breath,- 

He grasps those loving human hands 
That were too strong for death! 



[ 128 ] 



JUDGMENT 

When she lay dead, 

The many looked upon her face, and said, 

"The life is gone, so filled with shining deeds. 

So full of ministry to human needs ; 

And we who loved her are bereft: 

What have we left?" 

When she lay dead, 

A man looked sternly on her face, and said, 
"Thank God, the evil of her life is past ; 
What I have known the world would know at 

last. 
Now all is silence, peace : for me, 
I shall be free !" 

When she lay dead. 

The great God looked from his wide heaven, 

and said, 
"Only the One who made it knows the whole 
Of strength and weakness in a human soul. 
Cease, then, thy wonder ; peace ; let be : 
Leave her to me." 



[129] 



GUARDIANS 

Death, while thou'rt guarding those I love, 
Bid me keep level pace with thee, 

Wear Memory's garment, and a crown 
Of rosemary. 

My wise and strong ones ! Bid me now 
Draw near for guidance as of old; 

Behold, Love's altar-fires a-glow. 
Untouched of cold. 

Life, thou too keepest those I prize. 

Though Death walk ever near and free; 

And living hands and loving eyes 
Keep faith with me. 

My days are joyous, dream-beset. 

Buoyant with Love's untroubled breath ; 

I run my happy course and trust 
Both Life and Death. 



[130] 



CONFIDENCE 

I KNOW not where the Blessed wait, 
Within what glory-girdled lands, 

Nor on what hill of God, elate. 
Redemption's city stands. 

Mine eyes are blind because of tears. 
My feet move slow on Sorrow's ways. 

And loneliness of earthly years 
Bedims the heavenly days. 

Yet even when nearest to despair, 
(God give me grace to suffer then), 

I know, I know, sometime, somewhere, 
We find our own again. 



[131] 



LOSS 

Awhile I had forgot him and had drawn 

Free breath from pain for just a moment's 
space, 

But when the night had lifted into dawn 
Against the sunrise I beheld his face. 

He drew his hand impatient o'er his brow 
In the old careless, unforgotten way. 

I never guessed my sorrow until now — 
I never tasted grief until to-day ! 



[ 132] 



TO MY FATHER 

A LOST COMRADE 

Spring came and went ; I did not see 
Her footsteps on the grass ; 

I missed the tender minstrelsy 
Of birds that watched her pass. 

Spring came and went ; I did not hear 

Her filmy garments stir; 
I only felt that she was near, 

And grieved because of her. 

For you and I have followed Spring 

Far as her feet can stray ; 
And now — what matters anything 

Since you have gone away.? 



[133] 



TO MY FATHER 

A SONG OF GRIEF 

The bird that sings my dead to me 
From that far dawn of day, 

Is just a common robin 

In the weary month of May. 

Oh, that month of May was weary 
With its drift of apple-bloom. 

And the touch of alien sunshine 
On the long night of the room! — 

On the room's long night of struggle. 
And the endless grip of pain — 

I wish that I might never hear 
A robin sing again. 

I wish that I might never see 
That bloom across the way. 

The heart of Springtime breaks for me 
Whenever it is May. 



[134] 



BETWEEN THE HARBOR AND THE 
HILL 

Between the harbor and the hill 
The dead folk lie, serene and still; 
Wise with the wonder of the sea, 
They fearless face Eternity. 

Beneath the sunset and the star 
Where naught but peace and silence are, 
They lie who make no haste to go 
From this good earth that loved them so; 
Full well content they seem to be 
Within the calling of the sea. 

Above their dreaming falls the dew. 
Across their sleep strong, faring wings 
Wake the old gladness that they knew 
In days of far adventurings. 
Nor Heaven itself shall teach them yet 
That those are blessed who forget. 

Between the harbor and the hill. 

The earth that bore them holds them stiU; 

The memoried sea draws closer yet, 

Until each grave with mist is wet. 

Beneath whose silver sheltering fold 

Lies the long year's unreckoned gold. 



[135] 



Peace, soul that weeps — you could be still 

Between the harbor and the hill; 

Peace, soul that strives — you could be free 

Below the hill, beside the sea. 

No softer grave, no deeper tomb — 

O fisher-folk, make room — make room ! 



[136] 



ASHES 

What hath the gray ash at the last? 

Only a past; 

Still memories of new leaves that hung 

Where nestlings swung; 

Dim thoughts of sunlight, breaking through 

Where blossoms grew; 

Dreams of the faint, awakened spark 

That challenged dark; 

Bright hopes in splendor upward rolled 

From smoke's dun fold, 

When all of life, of love, of fame 

Burst into flame. 

This hath the gray ash at the last: 
A memoried past. 



[1S7] 



TO MY FATHER 

HERITAGE 

Father, who left me long ago, 
My soul is kin unto your own, 

The dreams and strivings of my days, 
Those you have known. 

My every turn and trick of phrase 
Is borne unknowing in my blood ; 

My tiny boats ride down some deep 
Ancestral flood. 

The women of my line were pure. 

The men were brave — what credit then 

Shall come to me whose pulse-beats stir 
Their deeds again? 

There was a saint in far-oif time 
Who meekly bore unhallowed days; 

If I a little patience win. 
Is mine the praise? 

There was a man who loved the right. 
And fought God's battle with a sword; 

What merit mine if in the strife, 
I serve my Lord? 



[138] 



My soul plants footsteps in their own, 
And they were brave of heart and high ! 

Father, is aught of worthiness? 
It is not I! 



[139] 



HER HANDS 

Her hands lay quiet, cold and still, 

By other than her will. 

For they were turned to gray 

Insensate clay. 

Those hands so full of gracious curves. 

Hands that so gently fell to rest, 
Hurried by love in waking hours, 

Clasped softly on her sleeping breast, — 
Those hands that spoke a language quick. 

With swift, insistent meaning plain, 
That fluttered with her speech or moved 

Before her laughter's light disdain — 

All this has passed away ; 

Hardest of all to-day. 

In this death-sundered hour. 

To miss the brave hand's power. 

Lord, when I meet her in that far-off land, 

First, first of all, grant me to touch her hand! 



[ 140 ] 



PAX VOBISCUM 

When I die, shall I dream 
Of mj radiant hopes all agleam, 
Of the sunlight that touched the brown depths 
of my stream? 

When I die, shall I grieve 
For the dear, bending faces I leave, 
For the close-tangling meshes of love that they 
weave? 

Ah, not so. 
Let them go — 
Hope, joy, even love that I know! 
Best of all the calm feeling 
Of rest that is stealing 
Thro' soul-fibres strained with the burdens we 
bear. 

Just to be very still, 
Void of will; 
Just to lie like a stone, 
Hours alone; 
With no knowledge of Heaven, no thought and 
no prayer. 



[141] 



With this blessed new freedom from being, 
From willing and doing and seeing, 
From loving and hoping and sighing; 
Done even the last act of dying; 

Of all things bereft; 

Nothing left — 
Not even the need to draw breath, — 
This, this is the resting of Death. 



[142] 



TO MY FATHER 



THE UNSPOKEN 



Long years ! And I have lived since you were 
gone, 

Not all content — yet, for the most part, so ; 

Seeing with joy a new day rise and grow, 
Leaving without regret a yester-dawn. 

There has been beauty in the budding trees, 
Recurrent spring stirred still the old delight. 
Yet not for you the fragrance of the 
night ; — 

Alone I knew the sweeping of the breeze. 

Long years of duty, well or illy done, 
Ungladdened by your quick, approving smile ; 
And yet the task itself has seemed the while 

A noble struggle, worthy to be won. 

The world is good ; its burdens to be borne 
May bravely rest on souls erect and high. 
Yet, all the strength I knew when you were by 

Has vanished, and has left the courage worn. 

Whether for others' blessing or my own 

Not witting have I shirked the joy or pain; 
Rut just to-night it all seems poor and vain ; 

Come back, come back ! I have been long alone. 

[ 143 ] 



MOTHER-HUNGER 

If only I could find her, for the mother-hun- 
ger's on me; 
I want to see and touch her, to know her 
close beside ; 
I want to put my head in the hollow of her 
shoulder, 
I want to feel her love me as she did before 
she died! 

In all the world is nothing, love of husband or 
of children, 
In all the world is nothing that can soothe 
me or can stir, 
Like the memory of her fragile hand from 
which the ring was slipping — 
The hand that wakes my longing at the very 
thought of her. 

The window in the sunshine and the empty 
chair beside it, 
The loneliness that mocks me as I find the 
sacred place — 
O Mother, is there naught in the unerring 
speech of silence 
To let me know your presence, tho' I cannot 
see your face? 



[144] 



Thank God that I have had you ; that we held 
each other closer 
As women and as sisters and as souls that 
claimed their own 
Than any tie of blood could bind ! and now my 
heart is bleeding, 
My heart is bleeding, Mother, and yours is 
turned to stone. 

Oh, no, I've not forgotten the triumph and the 
glory — 
I would not bring you back again to strug- 
gle and to pain; 
This hour will pass ; but oh, just now, the 
Mother-hunger's on me^ — 
And I would give my soul to-night to kiss 
your hair again! 



[145] 



A SONG FOR REMEMBRANCE 

She was a girl of the Spring; 

Blue were her eyes as the sea ; 
April had nothing to bring 

Fairer and freer than she. 

Heart of a rose did she bear 

Or ever June breathed on the way; 

Winds of the South were aware 
One danced as lightly as they. 

Love stayed his hand as he twined 
Jasmine and roses and rue, 

Whispering "Ne'er shall I bind 
My garland of sorrow for you." 

Death stood apart in the shade, 
Till, wearied of joyance and quest, 

Untroubled, unharmed, unafraid. 

She turned like a child to his breast. 



[146] 



THE LEGEND OF ISHTAR 

FOR C. E. L. 

IsHTAR goes seeking the lost, 

On through the cold and the heat, 

Listening by night and by day 
For the sound of his feet. 

Queenly, gold-girdled and proud, 

She sues who was wont to command ; 

Through the storm and the darkness she seeks 
For the touch of his hand. 

Gray grows the gloom of the dawn, 

Where the night lingers starless and wild, 

And her longing is fiercer than thirst 
For the lips of the child. 

At the sullen, shut portals of Death, 
In the black Halls of Silence and Pain, 

For the price of the crown that she wears 
She would clasp him again. 

Is it days, is it hours, is it years 
Since he left her to wander alone? 

Just to bend down her face on his hair 
She would barter her throne. 



[147] 



Her jewels she flings at the gate; 

Her girdle, her sandals she gives, 
Her garment of gold, her gold hair, 

Just to know that he lives. 

One moment the portals unclose ; 

One moment she sees him in bliss ! 
O, Ishtar, each mother on earth 

Would be beggared for this ! 



[148] 



THE MINORITY 

"Duchdtel, being ill, had himself carried to the conr 
vention on his bed, and, dying, voted the King's life." 

Hugo. 

God! How the air grows thick! There, raise 

me up! 
Leave me one breath to speak for him, and die. 
There's gloom on every brow; on every lip 
The sentence trembles. Well I know the end. 
Death — death — the King must die! They sit 

there, strong 
In vigorous manhood — muscles, nerves and flesh 
Full-lived, and then — they cast a life away! 
The King, the tyrant, dies ; their emphasis 
Falls hard on "tyrant" — "King" — but not on 

"dies." 
Think you that as I strangle here for breath 
I'll ask another living man to stand 
Where I do now, and feel this chilling dread 
Of nothingness creep over every sense.'* 
Were Louis Seize thrice tyrant that he is, 
No tyranny is great enough for death. 
The deepest dungeon and the darkest cell. 
Exile, imprisonment, compressed in one, — 
All these ; I vote for life — for life ! 
He will at least feel blood within his veins. 
Breathe, move, and know there is intensest joy 
In telling light from dark and heat from cold. 
For me — take this. Spare Louis — Spare the 

King! 

[149] 



THE LAST STAND 

What is all the fame you strove for 

Now you come to die? 
All that walked within the sunshine 

'Neath the shadows lie. 

All that climbed the steeps of power, 

Dizzy, nigh to fall. 
Loosed their hand-grip in that peril 

That confronts us all. 

Nothing counts you, nothing helps you, 

When you leave the sun, 
But the love that you have given, 

And the love you've won. 

Death, I meet thee fearless-fronted; 

This my bribe to thee: 
All my living was in loving — 

Deal thou tenderly! 



[150] 



NORTHLAND 

As desolate as arctic night 

That drags the chain of tardy dawn, 
Are those far wastes, devoid of light, 

Whereinto thou art gone. 

For Sorrow's North hath icy ways. 
Where pallid groups, without a plea, 

Endure the burden of the days 
In bitter company. 

'Midst grief's grim solitudes they bide ; 

Forgetfulness the goal they seek; 
While Memory, keeping close beside. 

Strides strong when they are weak. 

Thank God if, in this land of dole, 

Too sad for tears, too dark for dreams, 

At last upon thy night-bound soul 
Hope's wide aurora streams. 



[151] 



THIS HOUR 

Lord, make me meet to master common things. 
Strong for the strife renewed each opening 
day. 

Teach me that worthy victory may be won 
On fields obscure, by souls too spent to pray. 

Bid me to know the moments as they rise 

Full-fraught with meanings of the life 
divine ; 

Teach me the lesson of the present power, 
That present calm and conquest may be mine. 

Loose me from all that hinders in the Past, 
Nor let me fear the Future's frowning brow. 

To use the utmost gifts of grace and love 
There is no moment for my soul but Now. 



[152] 



ULTIMATUM 

Poor Earth, sown thick with graves ! 

Blest Heaven, engirt with stars ! 
As when a race of slaves 

Comes conquering from the wars, 
So all the sorrow on the earth long pent 
Sees o'er it victory's proud firmament. 



[153] 



JAN 22 1913 



